


Testing the Boss’s Self-Control

by Jade_Dragoness



Series: Slow and Steady Series [7]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: For Teasing the Boss, Karma Strikes Back, M/M, On His Crush on the Wizard, POV Nathan "Cujo" Hendricks, Post - Small Favor, no beta we die like Wardens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25984171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Dragoness/pseuds/Jade_Dragoness
Summary: Hendricks puts together a surveillance vid of Harry Dresden turning dangerous on the Russians knowing exactly the effect it would have on Marcone. Hey, testing the boss’s self-control may not have been in his contract but a friend-dash-bodyguard’s got to get in his fun where he can.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Johnny Marcone, Sigrun Gard/Nathan "Cujo" Hendricks
Series: Slow and Steady Series [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/8004
Comments: 31
Kudos: 231





	Testing the Boss’s Self-Control

**Author's Note:**

> Written because after the ‘post credit scene’ in the last fic I was amused with the thought that at moment Hendricks was hit with a feeling of fellowship and sympathy and said out loud to an empty room ‘Welcome to my life.’ And he has no idea why he did that. Although he – correctly – blames it on his boss.
> 
> Then the idea hit me like canon shot... ouch.

From the wooden desk where the boss was currently sitting, Nathan Hendricks heard the click-click of the wireless mouse as Marcone began to play on his laptop the compilation of the video footage Nathan had put together for him. There was an audible hitch in his breathing after a couple of minutes before it smoothed out again. 

Then Marcone made a noise, rather similar to when he got clipped in the groin by a knee or an elbow when the two of them sparred against each other without protective equipment (“because Mr. Hendricks, an enemy won’t give us a chance to don any gear” and so Nathan _aimed_ ), as lust grabbed him by the balls and _squeezed._

Nathan barely kept back from snorting in amusement. He checked the timer on his cell phone as it spun past the three minute mark. He knew exactly what part of the video had set the boss off.

Harry Dresden, looking arrogant and powerful, having just knocked back thirteen heavy armed men with a careless wave of a ringed hand.

Nathan wanted it noted for the record that was much as he was exasperated by Marcone’s damned insane crush on the wizard he was also freaking _ecstatic_ for what it meant for boss’ long-term mental and emotional well-being. It was proof he hadn’t gone and deadened his soul as he kept insisting to Nathan he had managed to accomplish on his rise to the top of the Chicago mob scene. It was actually a blessing to know Johnny was still human underneath the mental armor he’d riveted to himself. To know the dangerous kid whom Nathan had known and who had struggled often to hide his heart in a business which didn’t tolerate such any soft touch in their button-men was in there somewhere.

Even if Nathan rarely saw so much as a glimpse of him these days although usually more often with Dresden around.

Then there was the fact the boss’s gestures at seducing Harry Dresden was also a damned good sign of Marcone finally moving past Demeter’s attempt – so subtle neither Nathan nor Sigrun had managed to find any solid evidence that hadn’t point at Torelli – of having him killed by those damned Denarians. Torelli sure as hell hadn’t had access to the boss’ security intel, much less had the brains to have been brought in on the existence of magic and the magical defenses Sigrun had added to the safe-house. Defenses their attackers had known would need to be overcome and had prepared to break down. The only one who had means, motivation and the knowledge to give to the enemy forces had been Demeter.

Nathan didn’t like killing. There was a reason he saved his violence for the boss’s _protection_ , opposed to the hitters who were sent out to inflict it for Marcone’s business gain. But this was a clear cut case of self-defense as far as he was concerned. The woman was scary. Demeter was so empty inside that at times he couldn’t help but think putting her down was more of a mercy than anything else. And worse of all, the boss was convinced he deserved her lashing out at him, making no move to defend himself. Nor would he allow Nathan to do it on his behalf, at least not while they didn’t have anything more solid than Nathan’s hunch about the source of the leak.

For weeks after Nathan had brought his suspicions to the boss’s attention, Johnny had been worryingly distant, cold, and entirely too careless with his health and safety, even during off-duty hours. And if that wasn’t enough to drive Nathan nuts, he’d also denied he’d been affected in any way by the woman’s betrayal or impacted by his time on that damned island.

At least until Harry Dresden, in his usual klutzy and terrifying fashion brought about a radical change upon the boss’s mood. He’d improved Marcone’s morale (almost making Nathan as grateful to the man as he’d been in the aftermath of the werewolves and the island rescue) with one restaurant meeting. Although he hadn’t yet forgiven him for the way, even months afterwards, the changes he’d brought on the boss where _still_ causing aftershocks throughout the organization and giving Nathan all kinds of new headaches.

Typical.

From the boss’s desk, Nathan could hear Marcone’s breathing turn deep and steady. Sounding as if he was taking conscious control of every breath in the effort to not make another out-of-control noise. 

Nathan’s eyes flickered the phone’s timer to read: four minutes. At the moment in the video Dresden was about to sit with his legs spread wide in a pure male dominance display, putting his crotch in full view of the camera’s lens.

Then the sound of the boss’ breathing stopped for a long moment and when it began again it was ragged.

Nathan was _not_ going to laugh aloud, dammit.

Speaking of headaches, let’s take for example the war with the Russians.

It only had started in the first place because of the boss’ conquering of Toscane’s territory. Marcone may have given the lieutenants all manner of rational reasons for the rapid implementation of their hostile takeover but Nathan was damned well aware that it had only rolled out in the first place because the boss had been volcanic with anger (the kind of rage under pressure which threatened to go Mount Tambora on everything at any moment) at learning Toscane had sent an assassin after the wizard.

If it had been up to the boss it wouldn’t have taken over a month before they’d struck back. 

Nathan had had to read various passages of ‘The Art of War’ out loud entirely too often and had to drop too many quotes “Patience is a conquering virtue.” and “The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.” using Chaucer and Tolstoy – at on point even Gandhi and Angelou – like weapons on Marcone, applying them like a panacea until the boss got a hold of temper, used his brain instead of his gut, and actually worked out various attack plans. At least ones which were more in-depth than: “I’m going to _kill_ him.”

But they’d succeeded with surprisingly few casualties considering the rushed timeline. With the victory the business had expanded and now included new smuggling routes throughout the East Coast and Canada that while they didn’t add much variation to what the boss already controlled, did succeed in giving the boss the beginnings of a monopoly for anyone wanting product moved throughout those regions.

Unfortunately, the Barinov’s patriarch had been tight with Toscane and if the family hadn’t liked how the boss has taken over, then they really hated the new terms of business which Marcone offered up.

Cue their sporadic, although continuous, attacks against the organization for the last several months as they tried to gain Toscane’s former territory for themselves.

The men has joked about the beginning of a new cold war with the Russians, which wasn’t too far off a metaphor considering the slow smoldering nature of it. The boss was certain the Barinov family was only testing them for weaknesses. The only reason a full war hadn’t actually broken out between their two outfits yet was because in nearly every battle where they’d clashed in full force had ended with the Russians being the ones to break off and retreat in order to lick their wounds.

They only won so often was testament to how quickly the boss could mobilize to counterattack and due to the boss’s policy of promoting – and headhunting – talent with brains as opposed to those whom just looked the part or happened to lean on family connections to get jobs in positions they weren’t qualified to handle. Even when outnumbered, the men fought smarter and usually won as a result. 

The boss had damned strong opinions about nepotism and how it weakened an organization from within. The lessons of the Vargassis were never going to be forgotten.

Even after coming out on top in those battles Marcone hadn’t wanted to chase the Russians down. The organization was stretched tight absorbing Toscane’s former territory and they weren’t ready to bring even more under control. (“Expanding too quickly can be even more dangerous than never growing at all when it comes to business,” quoth the boss on each occasion.) So instead Marcone had focused on trouncing them, taking away resources and only recently – after establishing that yes, Marcone’s organization was smarter and stronger and the Barinov boss better keep that in mind – began to offer the Russians a chance to meet and work out a truce which would be mutually beneficial and end the hostilities.

Then the myopic idiots decided to blow the whole thing up by sending in Viktor Barinov and his Strike Team into Chicago to kidnap Harry Dresden.

At the desk, Johnny made another choked low noise. Curious, Nathan looked over to see the boss’s eyes locked on the laptop screen. His right hand was holding the wireless mouse so tightly the gray plastic creaked and the scars on his knuckles were starkly visible, but his other hand was flat on the desktop and so tense with pressure Nathan could see his manicured nails trying to dig into the polished hardwood. As Nathan watched the free hand slid back and got to the edge of the desk before the boss caught himself and returned it to where it had been. The green of his eyes was little more than a slender ring of color, pushed out by the expansion of his pupils.

His breathing was still harsh. His back was ramrod straight. His control on his libido was visibly fraying. 

“There –,” Marcone cleared his throat to try to chase way the husky rasp it has fallen into. “There isn’t any audio?”

“Sorry, boss. Totally destroyed.”

After a moment, the boss clicked the video so it would start again. 

Nathan resisted another snort and looked back to the phone timer. It was edging into eight minutes.

Viktor Barinov and his self-styled strike team, which was made up of a bunch of former soldiers, had solid reputation in their world. They moved fast and could get deep into enemy territory to kidnap, torture, murder, or whatever the hell his father ordered, and get out before anyone was the wiser. Over the last three years they’d been operating they’d become the terror of most of the crime families in North America who weren’t allied with the Barinovs. And even to a few on the law-enforcement side, although the Barinovs weren’t stupid enough to do that too often.

The strike team was good.

Which is why, three hours after they’d learned that Viktor Barinov had been in town to kidnap Harry Dresden and they’d already left on a private jet, the boss nearly lost his damned mind.

It was the closest Nathan had come in over two decades to wresting Johnny to the ground and sitting on him to make him calm down and _think._

That he hadn’t needed to do so was only due to pure chance as one of the agents tasked with keeping an eye on Dresden’s apartment had only just sent in her report, complete with a timestamped albeit static riddled video clip of the wizard bringing his horse-sized dog back from a walk.

The only reason Nathan hadn’t been tempted to tease Johnny about his reaction (in the after hours when they were allowed to let down the barriers of boss and bodyguard and return to their older relationship of friends) was because of the stark fear he’d seen in his face. There weren’t many things which scared the boss anymore. Not fallen angels, not destructive magical power, not fairy tale monsters or vampires, not angering heaven or irritating hell, and certainly not his own death, nothing succeeded in scaring John Marcone for long. But losing people… that was another story. 

Nathan had been tasked to find out what happened, how Barinov had managed to slip through their intelligence nets, how Dresden had avoided getting grabbed and what had spooked Viktor away so he left empty-handed. The boss had been desperate (visibly cold and tense which to Nathan was tantamount to the man shouting) to know if the Russians would come back to try again.

So Nathan had looked into it and learned a couple of important facts. First, as they’d been bribing people among the Barinovs for information the Russians had been doing the same in Chicago (which the boss then spent most the night rectifying and explaining his policy regarding traitors). Second, Dresden had been grabbed alright. And he’d been taken to one of the few places in the city that the boss had deliberately allowed to appear as if it stood without surveillance from their people. 

“Because it is important to allow certain locations to appear to have slipped through the net of our control. Then they will be used by the sort of people who will believe they are free to act with impunity,” the boss had pointed out. Letting no one know, including most of their own people, that Marcone had such places tricked out with all manner of surveillance gear. Including a couple of expensive svartalf cameras and silent alarms which could survive most spells thrown by mortal magic users. 

The alarms had been filtered through the organization, and someone had delayed the arrival of the information. The boss had not been pleased.

The location which Viktor Barinov had chosen to take Dresden had been used before by other kidnappers. The incident of when Harry Dresden had ended up for sale on Ebay (which, _what?!_ , the wizard’s life was ridiculous) was something they’d only learned after the fact and had been the turning point which made Marcone determined to gain access to technology which could survive a wizard’s power and asked Sigrun for contacts among the Svartalves.

Nathan ended up spending most of his night searching through these _abandoned_ buildings in the city before he found the garage which had looked like magic had exploded in it. He’d honestly been surprised it hadn’t been burning. Nathan had then pulled the memory cards out of the cameras to swap them for clean ones and after downloading and going through all the footage (at one point having to snap off the audio because all which came through was a hair-raising howl of sonic agony) he’d come to the shaking realization of how gently Dresden had actually been treating them all these years. Verbal threats and the incident at Varsity aside, Dresden had never gone after them like _that._

Seeing how damned terrifying Dresden had been on men whom been causing the boss all manner of problems (and feeling a touch sympathetic because, _damn_ , Dresden hadn’t held back much had he? Only enough to not actually maim or kill them), well, Nathan had grudgingly admitted to himself that seeing Harry Dresden happen to other people was satisfying on a deep and visceral level.

It also made him fret, thinking on how all of Sigrun’s defenses against Harry Dresden maybe weren’t actually enough (he was never, ever telling her he'd thought that). They needed to step up their offensive capabilities. Even if the boss was disinclined to get violent on the wizard, Dresden was hardly the only magic user in the world. It seemed as if more and more of them were showing up in Chicago all the time.

It had also led Nathan to the uncomfortable thought that maybe the man was a damn good match for the boss after all. It wasn’t like he needed Marcone to protect him, oh, he could benefit from it. Dresden left such large gaps in his personal security that their existence offended Nathan’s sense of professionalism as a bodyguard but he didn’t _need_ it. And he already knew Dresden didn’t want the boss’s money or anything to do with the influence wielded by Gentleman John Marcone. 

It had been something to mentally chew over as he’d put together the video compilation.

It was kinda of a gift for the boss. 

Nathan was well aware of how Johnny would react. As soon as he’d seen the video of Dresden in that flimsy chair, knees open, fucking cocky as hell in a blatant alpha male pose – only missing having his actual cock out for the pure macho posturing of it all – with a blazing sun above his head as a radiant crown and crimson glowing smoke around his ankles as he snapped out an inaudible order to men who’d only minutes beforehand had been trying to kill him. And being _obeyed._

The boss didn’t stand a chance. 

Cue Nathan challenging the limits of Marcone’s famous self-control by lingering in the office as the boss became more and more desperately turned on but didn’t yet get to the point of saying ‘Fuck it!’ and jerking off with Nathan still in the room with him. Something he would have done once, years and years ago.

Nathan would never have dared to set up Johnny like this at the office if Sigrun hadn’t taken leave of them for a couple of days. 

There was another click-click of the mouse as the video played again. 

Nathan looked up at the boss. Johnny was now biting his lower lip so viciously it threatened to leave it puffy looking for the rest of the day. There was a trickle of sweat beading down from his silvered temples. His cheeks and ears were flushed (the torn one a shade darker) and his breaths were coming out through the part of his lips in short gasps like they were being punched out of him. 

Nathan knew, without ever having to look, that the boss was pitching a tent in his expensive trousers and probably leaving a mess. And was, no doubt, seconds away from simply ordering Nathan to get the hell out.

The timer read at fifteen minutes before an alarm sounded off. Lunchtime officially started.

Nathan stood up. “I’m gonna get something to eat,” he said easily, moving up from his desk and heading out of the office. He kept his amusement to himself until he was at the door where he paused and fully turned back to Marcone.

“Do want anything, boss?”

Marcone didn’t even look up from where his gaze was locked on the laptop screen as he said through gritted teeth, “Mr. Hendricks, kindly leave!”

“I take it that means you want your usual then,” Nathan said as bland as he knew to make his voice. For a moment the boss looked like he was seriously thinking about pulling out one of his knives and tossing it at Nathan before his green eyes closed and he exerted a grip on himself. 

So to speak.

Nathan closed the door behind him, noting out of the corner of his eyes how swiftly boss’s left hand moved finally getting past the delineation line where desk ended before plunging out of sight. 

Nathan guessed that the grip had just became very literal.

 _‘It isn’t professional to laugh at Johnny during office hours,’_ Nathan had to mentally chant to himself a few times before he was able to tap down his smirk. However, as soon as they were both ‘off the clock’, Nathan would sure as hell will be laughing at Johnny. And threatening to add lube to the ‘In Case of Harry Dresden’ emergency drawer in the boss’s desk. Actually, Nathan may do that anyway and toss some condoms in there while he was at it too.

It didn’t take long to head over to the where the food had been catered in for the construction workers. Normally, the boss joined them for the lunch hour as he liked them to see him in person as they ate even if he usually stayed at a separate table because he often continued to work. This time, Nathan didn’t think the boss would be coming out of the office. Even if he did have a couple of replacement emergency suits available to change into for when the one he wore got… messy. 

Nathan grabbed food for himself, picked up a grilled chicken sandwich which would keep until the boss had finished putting himself back together and returned to wait at office’s antechamber. When the building’s remodeling was finished, there would be a personal assistant sitting at the outer desk for whomever would take over the office which the boss was currently occupying.

Nathan tried not to feel like he’d suddenly been cast in that role as he sat down to eat from his tray. He fiddled with his cellphone as he chewed, scrolling through the latest coded updates being sent in the private chat app which the boss had commissioned in-house and held as proprietary to keep it from being used by federal agencies as a means of spying on them.

The boss rather enjoyed turning around and hitting the federal government with lawsuits when they _tried._

That was the moment karma struck back at Nathan for his earlier enjoyment of the boss’s suffering. 

Because he got a call from Harry Dresden. 

Well, technically, the wizard was trying to get a hold of the boss. But Marcone’s calls were only ever redirected towards Nathan’s phone when the boss ignored three attempts to get through to him. The boss didn’t often do that. The workers who fielded the outlaying calls which came from everything, including reporters, cops, politicians, and on one memorable occasion a Faerie Queen, were pretty good a knowing what to pass up the chain and what to squash.

And Dresden _always_ got passed on to the boss.

Nathan told the woman at the other end to patch the wizard through, hoping against hope his cell phone survived the experience.

“Dresden,” Nathan said, his eyes narrowing. “What do ya want?”

“Hendricks?” Dresden sounded startled, and the sound of static cackled loudly making Nathan wince. “Um, is Marcone free?”

Nathan tilted his head back at the closed door to the office. He wasn’t going to go in to check but he doubted the boss was done.

“He currently has his hands full,” he answered dryly. 

“Oh. I’ll call back later, then.”

“Wait.” Nathan said, wondering if the man had decided to finally let them know about the Russians snagging him off the street. “What’s this about?”

Dresden hesitated and the line snapped and popped before he said slowly, “Well… well, actually you would probably know. Is Marcone free this Friday? Say around eight?”

Nathan froze in horror at the realization of what was happening. 

Harry Dresden was choosing _now_ of all times to grow a pair and ask the boss out? He closed his eyes, and mouthed ‘Goddammit, Dresden’ to the empty room.

Nathan grunted, “Give me a second.” He didn’t actually need to check, he knew the boss would make the space in his schedule to fit Dresden in even if it meant shoving the mayor, governor or even the Queen of England out. Nathan hesitated and added, “Hey, Dresden, next time a mobster who ain’t the boss snatches you off the street, do the boss a courtesy and call before he hears it from somewhere else.”

“How did you know about that?” Dresden actually sounded startled. Nathan rolled his eyes. He could hear the moment the wizard’s temper caught fire because the cackle of static was joined by a screaming shriek. He winced and pulled the phone away as Dresden yelled, “Is Marcone spying on me?! I don’t need to be protected! I can take care of myself!”

Yeah, he had in a truly spectacular fashion as Johnny was no doubt _really_ enjoying seeing on video right now.

Nathan didn’t sigh but he wanted to. “Don’t doubt it. It ain’t the point. The boss was…” How to encapsulate the storm of emotions which Johnny had been feeling at that moment. The worry, the anger, the fear. “... _upset._ ” 

“Oh.” The interference over the phone lines calmed down so Nathan’s ears weren’t threatening to start bleeding. It was times like these when he was rather glad Dresden actually knew how the boss worked and how much it _meant_ for Marcone to be upset about anything because Dresden started stumbling over himself, “Yeah. Okay. Yeah, um, I can do that.”

“Good. Hold on. Gonna patch you through.”

After switching Dresden over so that his call would start ringing the boss’s phone again, Nathan smacked himself in the face with his free hand. Then he looked at the ceiling, glaring because godly vengeance wasn’t supposed to be this swift. He took a deep breath, walked over the door, knocked, opened it up a crack and stubbornly ignoring the panting noises coming the direction of the boss’s desk. 

“Dresden’s on the line, boss.”

Nathan firmly closed the door again before Marcone could respond.

He returned to the secretary desk, grumbling. Then wanting to share in his amusement of the entire day he sent Sigrun a long, rambling text. Included was the question if they needed to start a plan on how to deal with the fallout of Dresden and the boss going out on an actual date. It was Dresden. Nathan fully expected to deal with beginning of an apocalypse or two.

Then, thinking how he deserved a good thing too, he sent her another text asking if she wanted to join him for dinner. 

He would cook.

End

**Author's Note:**

> So realizing I've never written Hendrick's POV fic before my brain shouted "An injustice!" And then fic. 
> 
> Also, I was snickering way too much at Marcone's suffering right along with Hendricks there.


End file.
